


Nesting Instinct

by LarielRomeniel



Series: The Waiting Room [9]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, House Hunting, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 15:24:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10699773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarielRomeniel/pseuds/LarielRomeniel
Summary: House hunting is never easy. It gets even harder when you have certain... requirements. Falls between "The Course Of True Love" and "People Change."





	Nesting Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! I know it's been a while. Been busy, and then the Muse really took some kicks to the teeth with those final three episodes of S2. This story, as with the whole "Waiting Room" continuity, ignores the very existence of just about everything after 1x15.
> 
> This is for the ficcingcaptaincanary prompt "shopping." Thanks to Jael for the beta, and for encouragment about the other unfinished stuff I've been goofing around with.

By the third house, Consuela was beginning to understand why Cisco had seemed so hesitant about this referral. _“They’re not your typical customers,_ Tía _,”_ he’d told her while passing along the phone number.

They’d seemed typical enough when she met them at Jitters that morning. Well, maybe more attractive than most people looked at 8 o’clock on a Saturday. And the way they looked at each other… That was like a _telenovela_ romance come to life and made her heart flutter pleasantly.

“So, Cisco tells me you two met on a ship?” she’d asked while waiting for her triple shot cappuccino.

“Actually, we met here in Central City before we ever got on the Waverider,” Leonard Lance answered after taking a sip of his coffee. He smirked at his wife. “She thought I was a jerk.”

“You were,” Sara Lance replied with a smile. “But you got over it.”

“The Waverider. What a romantic name,” Consuela observed. She raised her eyebrows when both Lances began laughing. “Did I say something wrong?”

Leonard shook his head. “No. Just… I don’t think her builders ever expected that ship to become the Love Boat,” he said, folding a hand around his wife’s.

“So it wasn’t a pleasure cruise?”

“No, we were working,” Sara replied.

“Oh, yes, Cisco said something about security consultation?”

Leonard coughed into his coffee, and set it down while Sara patted his back and said, “Yes. The job was… a bit of a challenge.”

He caught his breath back and shook his head while leaning in closer to his wife. “Though there some parts of the job that were definitely a pleasure,” he added.

Oh, that look he gave her! Consuela resisted the urge to fan herself and changed the subject. “Cisco also tells me you’re first-time home buyers.”

Something she couldn’t identify flickered in Leonard’s eyes as his gaze moved away from Sara. “I’ve… done some commercial deals. Warehouses for my dad’s… business, and then my own. This is the first time I’ve actually looked for a house, though. First time for both of us,” he said with a slight smile.

Maybe she’d imagined that flicker. “Well, I’ll make it as painless as possible for you,” she promised, pulling out a tablet and calling up her listings app. “So, tell me what you’re looking for.”

Their wish list seemed pretty typical, too. A two-story house with at least three bedrooms (“We want room to grow,” Leonard had said, stretching an arm around Sara while she laid her free hand against her middle, telling Consuela all she needed to know), at least two full bathrooms and space for a workshop. (“Preferably detached,” Sara told her. “I do metalworking as a hobby, and I plan to go back to it after the baby is born.”)

All right, so not very typical. But Consuela had seen stranger in her years as a Realtor. (She still shuddered at the memory of that snake breeder.)

Just one more vital detail to put in the search engine. “What kind of budget are we talking about?” she asked, focused on her screen.

She looked up in shock at the figure Leonard named, and glanced over at Sara, who showed no sign of disagreement. Consuela tried to keep her tone even. “And how much of that are you able to put as a down payment?”

“All of it,” Leonard answered easily. He smiled. “Sara and I made a _killing_ on Apple stock.”

Consuela swallowed while Sara snickered at what was apparently an inside joke. “Well, then,” Consuela said in a slightly strained voice, “Let’s find your dream home.” 

She tapped the search button, and while her tablet worked, one corner of her mind started planning the dream vacation she’d take with this commission.

* * *

 

Most people would have missed Consuela’s little sigh as she pulled the car up to yet another curb.

Most people weren’t trained by the League of Assassins.

Sara felt some sympathy for the woman. Consuela really was trying, but she was working in the dark. Necessarily. They couldn’t go telling her the truth, that they were former criminals turned time travelers turned crime fighters, with special concerns about security.

Even if she believed them – which she probably wouldn’t – letting her know anything about their real lives was risky business, for them… and for her, really. Sara knew what Len had done years ago to get Cisco to give up Barry’s identity. And Barry said Len had been Central City’s most honorable bad guy, even before turning away from crime.

She could only imagine what the remainder of Central’s criminal element would do to Cisco’s honorary aunt if they knew she had a line on the former Rogue.

No, better they keep her in the dark on that score.

Sara raised an eyebrow at Len when he extended a hand to help her out of the car, then pulled it to his lips for a kiss when she emerged. He’d been pouring it on pretty thick with the doting husband act all day, but Cisco had told them Consuela was a real romantic, in love with love. Not that Sara didn’t enjoy being doted on occasionally, but the act was probably the one thing that kept Consuela from dropping them both back at Jitters in frustration after the tenth failed visit.

Some of the houses just wouldn’t have worked even without their… special requirements. They both shook their heads at a cookie-cutter development of McMansions, and Len flatly refused to get out of the car when they reached a neighborhood of homes with white picket fences. “We’re looking for something with a little more… _character_ ,” he’d said.

They quickly learned that some agents used “character” as a euphemism for homes that were falling apart. (They didn’t mind a certain amount of DIY, but they’d prefer a home with a whole staircase instead of half of one.)

They also learned that Consuela was a bit… sheltered… when she raved about the lushly filled planter boxes in one back yard. Her expression was priceless when she learned this farm wasn’t exactly of the legal variety, and she couldn’t get them out of there fast enough. (They didn’t protest. A known pot farm could bring all the wrong visitors.)

One home in an older neighborhood had possibilities, until they were greeted by the (very nosy) homeowners’ association president living next door. Len merely rolled his eyes at the thick book of codes, covenants and restrictions in the woman’s hand, and Consuela was leading them back to the car.

“Fixing the timeline was easier than this,” Sara had murmured to Len.

He’d shrugged in answer. “Nothing good in my life has ever come easy. Why should this be any different?”

Now Consuela looked a little downcast as she circled around the car to meet them. “This one needs some work on the roof,” she said. “And the windows need to be updated; they’re all single pane, so the place will be chilly.”

Sara exchanged a glance with Len, who was studying the house with a furrowed brow. “Chilly’s not a problem,” he said. “Let’s take a look.”

They followed her inside. The house was bare of furniture. “The previous owners retired to Coast City last month,” Consuela said. “They couldn’t take the Central City winters any more.”

She led them around the first floor. “There’s a room here with a nice bay window. It could be a den or a guest room. There’s also a full bathroom on this level. The carpet in the living room and the tile in the kitchen are new, but the kitchen still needs a little more updating. These appliances are pretty ancient.”

There was a door from the kitchen to a cozy back porch, with stairs leading down to a neat yard equipped with a playhouse and a hammock strung between two trees.

“The playhouse was for the sellers’ grandchildren,” Consuela said. She pointed at a building on one side of the yard. “That’s the garage, but it might do for your workshop.”

“Hmmm.” Sara tried to sound noncommittal. She glanced over at Len, who seemed transfixed by the hammock. She squeezed his hand, and he blinked a couple of times before looking at her and squeezing back.

“Do you want to take a look upstairs?” Sara asked him.

He nodded, which should have perked the other woman up, but Consuela just sighed again. “All right.”

She led them back into the house and up the stairs. “There’s a master bedroom and two big bedrooms up here. Hardwood flooring throughout. The master suite has its own bathroom, and there’s a Jack-and-Jill bathroom for the other two rooms.”

Sara took in a little breath of surprise when they walked into the master suite, first because of its size. It took up the whole back half of the second floor, and the bathroom boasted both a shower and a tub that looked sybaritic. “They remodeled the bathroom a few years ago,” Consuela said. “But the wallpaper is…”

“Perfect, actually,” Len interrupted, squeezing Sara’s hand once again.

And it was. The walls were covered in an ice blue paper patterned with white birds. Sara had seen enough in her travels, both chronologically and geographically, not to dismiss omens and harbingers. She gave Len’s hand a return squeeze, then said, “You mentioned the roof?”

Another sigh from Consuela. “I’ll be honest, that has been the deal breaker for all the buyers so far. Follow me.”

She led them to the front bedroom, giving them another chance to admire the view from its bay window while she opened the closet. There was a pull string hanging from the ceiling. Consuela gave that a tug, pulling down a ladder. “This leads to the attic. It is finished, so you don’t have to worry about inhaling any nasty insulation fibers, but Sara, I don’t know…” 

“I’m pregnant, not incapacitated,” Sara said, climbing up the ladder ahead of Leonard. (She knew he’d still take any opportunity he could to stare at her ass.)

* * *

Normally, Len would be enjoying the view right now. But he was too overwhelmed by the sense of déjà vu that had hit him the moment he laid eyes on this house.

It had been a long time since he’d had a time stream nightmare. And he hadn’t seen a Ridge vision come to life since their wedding. But this house was surrounding him with those visions:

Lying with Sara and a small boy on that living room carpet…

Relaxing with her in that hammock…

That bedroom wallpaper serving as a backdrop for what Sara would look like in just a few months, rounded with their child and heartbreakingly beautiful…

Whatever awaited them in the attic, he already knew he was home.

* * *

Consuela huffed for breath as she climbed up the ladder after Leonard. She really had to start laying off the _pan dulce_.

Leonard extended a hand to help her up before joining Sara in contemplating the “deal breaker:” a large hole in the roof, poorly patched with plywood.

“This happened after that last metahuman breakout from Iron Heights,” Consuela said. “Unfortunately, the insurance company refused to cover the damage and trying to get FEMA funding to pay for repairs has been next to impossible. So the sellers left it as-is, although they did knock a bit off the asking price.”

A bit, but not nearly enough to make up for the hassle of dealing with a contractor.

Usually, this was when the prospective buyers would shake their heads in rejection. Consuela braced herself for that.

“Can you give us a moment, Consuela?” Leonard’s question was soft, and for a moment she thought she’d misheard him.

Her confusion must have shown. Sara smiled at her slightly and said, “We’ll be right down. We just want a minute.”

“Oh! Of course!” Consuela climbed down the ladder and hovered near the closet door while the Lances talked. She caught a few words of their hushed conversation: “ridge vision,” “safe room,” “hatch for the jump ship.”

Then, to her surprise and pleasure, she heard, “Consuela, we want to make an offer.”

Cisco had told her they weren’t typical. She should have started with the not-typical house in the first place. 

* * *

 

_Six Years Later_

Consuela sighed as she looked at the photo from her dream vacation, on a beach in Tahiti.

Someday she’d get back there.

“Consuela?” Her office assistant poked her head through the door. “There’s a family here asking to see you. They don’t want to talk to one of the regular sales team.”

Consuela raised an eyebrow. “All right, send them in.”  
  
A tall, bearded man entered the office, accompanied by a dark-haired woman and a little boy. “Ms. Moreno? Rip Hunter,” the man said, extending a hand. “This is my wife Miranda, and my son Jonas.”

Consuela smiled at the boy and said, “Hello, there! Would you like to try some _pan dulce_?” She pointed at the plate of sweets at the corner of her desk.

Jonas looked up at his parents, who nodded. While the boy grabbed an _oreja,_ she motioned for the family to sit down.

“Leonard and Sara Lance referred us to you,” Rip said. “We’re looking for a house.”

“We know Cisco, too,” Miranda added. “He said to tell you that we’re… not your typical customers.”

Consuela blinked, then smiled broadly. “Ah, I know just what he means. Let’s talk about your dream home.”

Someday might be sooner than she thought.

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I *still* have to write that rescue! And there are a couple of other fics in this 'verse that are floating around in my head.


End file.
